


New Year's at three-quarter time

by Artemis1000



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Family, M/M, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year on New Year's Day, the extended Habsburg family comes together to meet, quarrel and enjoy good music at the Vienna New Year's concert. The only problem with family gatherings? Your family is there, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's at three-quarter time

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to hear some Vienna New Year's concert music while you read the fic you could go [here](http://youtu.be/p9vh-tSZCoI)

For being empires that had lasted centuries, the Habsburg nations had very few traditions left.

On the rare occasions Austria permitted himself to ponder how quickly glory faded, he never failed to get depressed.

Hungary would then kiss his cheek and laugh that gentle, slightly teasing laugh of hers, telling him that he should stop being a silly old man.

Personally, he didn’t think it was all that silly to take offense at having been reduced from an empire that ruled Europe with an iron fist to a small mountain nation many people couldn’t tell apart from Australia.

However, deep down, he knew Hungary was right. The times changed and they had to change with them, lest they would drown and be swept away by the waves of history.

It didn’t stop him from treasuring the rare occasions on which the Habsburg Empire’s old glory shone again.

The Vienna Opera Ball had turned into a depressing spectacle of starlets of questionable reputation and petty scandals in the past years.

The Vienna New Year concert, however, remained the highlight of Austria’s year, for a reason which was only marginally related to old glory.

Every year without fail, the Habsburg family would gather in Vienna to celebrate the New Year together, as they had done ever since the imperial days. They were not so much a family, in truth, not even in the vague way in which blood relation was defined by beings that weren’t born in the biological sense of the word. They were a motley gathering of nations that had been cobbled together by happenstance and imperial hunger for conquests, but history had turned them into as much of a family as an empire could ever be.

The World Wars had been a nuisance to their tradition and Russia’s ridiculous Iron Curtain had been a downright headache, forcing Austria to celebrate one year with the Western nations in Vienna and the other with the Eastern ones in Budapest. Being neutral had its benefits. Nowadays, no such hindrances remained and the entire European contingent of the sprawling family would attend, sometimes even a few of Spain’s children from overseas.

A smile tugged at Austria’s lips as they swarmed onto the gallery. He took a moment to let his eyes take in the beauty of the golden hall, lovely even when it was empty, breathtaking now as it was crowded and festively decorated with flowers the Italies had brought from their flower city San Remo.

The noises of hissed bickering reached his ears and he turned around to find Czechia and Slovakia glowering at another.

Austria heaved a long-suffering sigh. Of course. 

The inherent problem with family gatherings?

Your family was there, too.

Before he could shush them, Romano took matters into his own hands, quite literally at that. He sneaked behind the squabbling nations and gave both simultaneously a smack on the backs of their heads. “Quiet, idiots!”

They turned simultaneous glares on him, which made Romano first pale and freeze with fear, then turn bright red as he ran to hide behind Spain.

Austria smiled. Other nations… can’t live with them, can’t have an empire without them.

He responded to Spain’s cheerful wave with a dignified nod and the smallest of smiles, acknowledging that he had, despite all of Austria’s misgivings, managed to shepherd his share of the family to Vienna in time for the concert. 

There were Belgium and Netherlands by the pillar, the former fussing over Slovenia’s dress, the latter looking sour and his face clearly displaying his opinion that he neither belonged nor wanted to belong. 

Austria sighed, exasperated. Spain had always had a hand for picking the most difficult wards. Or maybe he was simply incapable to rule over an orderly household without Austria there to hold his hand.

Since nations were ruled by and ruled over many different nations in the course of their live spans of hundreds or thousands of years, it was near impossible to figure out who stood in what relation to whom. History would provide an argument for even the most far-fetched connection if you searched thoroughly enough. Thus, nations defined their relations by whom they chose to belong with.

Netherlands may scorn and curse Spain all he wanted, but there was no denying that he spent every Christmas with the Spanish family, with Portugal, Belgium, Romano and whatever of his overseas colonies Spain could nag, plead or just plain annoy into attending. A quick glance showed Austria that Cuba had been the unlucky victim this year. He looked distinctly uncomfortable being chattered at by Croatia, who was delighted to have found a “brother” who hadn’t heard the story of his successful request for EU membership yet. 

Austria felt a pang of sympathy for the beleaguered nation, wondering if Cuba recognized Croatia at all. After all, they were only related in the vaguest way, with Cuba having once been a part of Spain’s empire, while Croatia hadn’t even been under Austria’s direct rule, but rather under Hungary’s.

Just as he was on his way to save Cuba, he hadn’t had a proper talk with the boy since the 17th century, he was pulled into a bear hug from behind. “Austria!” That happy voice could belong only to one nation.

Austria freed himself from the embrace and smoothed the wrinkles out of his formerly immaculate clothes. He cleared his throat. “Spain. Welcome to Vienna. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

Spain blinked owlishly at him. After a moment of confusion, he laughed loudly and gave Austria a hearty pat on the back. Then he gave him a loud, wet kiss smack dab on the lips. “Ah, Austria! You are still so stuffy, haha!”

Austria took a step back and pushed his spectacles up his nose. His violet eyes narrowed in disapproval behind the glass. “I would thank you for behaving with decorum, Spain. This is neither the time nor place for inappropriate displays of affection.” He cleared his throat noisily. “I am a married man.”

“When you were married to me, you were a married man, too!” Spain chirped. His face fell with a sudden realization. “Does that mean I spent two hundred years kissing you when I wasn’t supposed to?” His puppy eyes had all the force of little Veneziano begging for a second helping of pasta.

“Ah, that…” Austria sputtered a bit and wished fervently, oh so fervently that if Spain had to ask such questions, he would at the very least have the decency to do it quietly. They had already gained an audience of tittering, whispering nations.

“Of course you were supposed to, sweetie,” Hungary cooed, placing a manicured hand on Austria’s shoulder. He knew this hand bore calluses from wielding frying pans and swords with equal lethal ferocity. “I hope you did a bit more than kissing him. But now he’s mine to kiss and do all kinds of perverted things to, alright?” She smiled brightly and pinched Spain’s cheek.

Austria felt himself pale as he realized he was about to become the object of a tug-o-war between the former conquistador empire and the eternally most intimidating nation in the world.

The problem with empires?

The power dynamics in the family of nations didn’t always mirror the political power dynamics.

He had found Hungary to be an unstoppable force of nature already when she had been his maid, but all the more so once they had tied the knot. Their wedding had been political, of course, but so had their divorce. As people, they had remained married, though there were moments, such as this one, when Austria questioned the wisdom of his choice.

But that was neither here nor there. Beyond doubt, there was something distinctly awkward about a family gathering that included both your former and your current spouse.

“Ve~ Mister Austria? Mister Austria? When’s the music starting? I’m bored!” North Italy was hanging dangerously over the banister, as if he didn’t have a perfectly good view on the orchestra from where he stood. Or as if he could speed up the proceedings by breaking his neck. 

Under any other circumstances, he would have left the little fool to his brother to deal with. Under these circumstances, Austria was only all too happy to extricate himself from Hungary’s death grip and rush to his side, pulling him back. “Italy, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from disturbing the concert with your demise. It would be untimely, though regrettably impermanent!” He huffed in exasperation and tucked his former charge’s suit into place, looking stern and disapproving all the while. It was the only kind of fussing he would permit himself. 

“Veneziano, you dumb little fucker!” Romano snapped and grabbed North Italy by the scruff of his neck. He shot Austria a sullen look. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“But… no one told me when the music is going to start!” Austria heard North Italy wail as he was dragged away.

As if on cue, the concert did, in fact, begin.

A wild scramble broke out among the nations as they all rushed for a seat, preferably one that wasn’t anywhere near a nation they disliked.

With everyone else otherwise occupied, Czechia and Slovakia were jostling another in three-quarter time rhythm to the music, while Romania was making a ridiculous spectacle out of eyeing a distraught Mexico’s jugular. 

Meanwhile, the Italies were handing out food, Romano tomatoes and Veneziano had somehow managed to sneak pasta into the concert hall. Austria ground his teeth and made a conscious decision to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. In Italy, we used to eat in the opera all the time, they had argued when Austria had scolded them once, and then Veneziano had cried, Romano had yelled and the collective polite society of Vienna had snubbed Austria for the rest of the year.

In the end, he decided, there might something to be said for no longer being an empire: he had to endure this insanity only once a year.

His hand found Hungary’s, she intertwined her fingers with his. “Happy New Year,” he whispered.

When she responded with a kiss, chiding her for a lack of decorum was the last thing on his mind.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Info:  
> The Vienna New Year's concert of the Vienna Philharmonic isn't a very old tradition, it's been around only since 1939. But it's supposedly broadcasted in more than 70 countries all over the world, so I thought it would be a good event to appeal to all these diverse nations.
> 
> The Vienna Opera Ball is actually better known. It's the highlight of Vienna social life, the Vienna Opera is turned into a giant ballroom and fancily-dressed people dance the waltz/show off to the paparazzi. It has spin-offs all over the world. However, it's become a rather kitschy affair with questionable star guests like Lindsay Lohan, Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton. Thus, I think the New Year's concert would appeal more to Austria since it's still about the music, not the VIPs.
> 
> The flowers for the opera hall's decoration are indeed sent by San Remo.


End file.
